Last Night at the Blue Angel (21 page)

He looks out the windshield and sighs through his nose. He presses his thumb against a small, star-shaped crack in the glass then rests his hand on the steering wheel and wiggles it back and forth.
I don't know what to say
.

Me neither
.

You'd be awful good at poker, I'll tell you that. If you ever want me to teach you
.

I would
, I say.

M
other has the vaporizer going when we get upstairs. The apartment is warm and damp. She is pacing the rooms with her arms crossed doing lips trills.

What's going on here?
says David.

Warming up
, I say.

Already?

Mother waves her hand at David as though to say,
Not now
.

Sometimes she thinks her voice is gone
, I tell him.

David frowns.
Laryngitis?

She thinks it's been taken
.

Taken?
says David.

Jim shows up then and Mother looks so relieved.

He shakes his head.
I've got something for the kid. Only reason I'm here
.

Mother opens her mouth, pushes, and a little squeak comes out.

Well
,
you pushed it really hard last night
, says Jim.

Punishment
, whispers Mother.

Probably
, says Jim.
Get some honey and tea
.

She sounded fine this morning
, says David.

That was her speaking voice
, I say.

Jim hands me a package. It's a record.

What is it?
I ask.

It's a cat
, he says.

I pull it out.
Skeeter Davis Sings The End of the World
.

Thought you might have something in common
, says Jim.

Mother takes it from my hands and looks at it.

This is not music
, she whispers.

It's not for you
, Jim whispers back.

So will she iron out this voice problem?
David asks.

She'll be fine
, says Jim.
The problem is here
. He points to his head.
You two smell like you've been sitting in a tavern all day
.

Thanks for the record
, I tell him.
I'm going to go listen to it right now
.

Jim follows.
I think you're going to like her
, he says as we sit on my floor in front of my record player.

I hold the record.

What you waiting for?

I know about David. I know he's my father
.

Jim takes a deep breath.

He is
,
right?

Jim nods and looks at his shoes. I wonder just how many secrets there are.

Why didn't you tell me? Why would you let me feel stupid?

I thought you might be too young for that conversation
.

Sister Eye says family is who you choose to love
, I tell him, trying to keep my voice in order.
You chose me. You said you did. I chose you
.

He smiles at me and nods.

Not David. Mother can choose him but I don't have to if I don't want
.

You're right about that
. He looks uncomfortable sitting on my floor.

I pull the plastic off the record.
I wish she could be happy with just us
.

Jim nods.
Me
,
too
,
kid. Go on
,
now. Put that sad goddamned record on already
.

CHAPTER 24

A
FTER JIM LEAVES
Mother finds me in my room.
How was your outing?
she asks.

Fine
.

Do you get along
,
you two?

I nod.

I'm glad. I really am keen on him. Did you do something fun?

Poker
, I say.

Very funny
, she says.

David appears in my doorway.

Will you be staying here tonight?
she asks me.

I study her for a clue as to what I should say.

I'd like to keep her in
, says David.
A normal night at home. You know
,
dinner
. My Favorite Martian.
Popcorn. Bed by nine. You've probably read about it in the magazines
.

A flash of disgust passes over Mother's face, but she asks,
You all right with this plan
,
baby?

I don't care
, I say, and turn the volume up on my record player.

David follows her out the door.

I might be late
, I hear her say.

Why's that?
says David.

I don't hear anything by way of an answer.

Just come on home
,
doll
, I hear him say before the door closes behind her.

We make grilled cheese and popcorn for dinner. David spills more popcorn than he eats while he stares at the television. It seems to be a problem of him always grabbing more than he can hold. He tries to think of things to say to me—do I like cats, have I ever seen
King Kong
—but I don't say much back. Finally he sighs and says,
I think you don't want to get close to me because you think your ma and I aren't going to work out
.

Probably
, I say, as nicely as I can.

Why is that?

Because it never works. With her. Not once in my whole life
.

David looks at me and thinks.

It's after ten o'clock when he says,
Should I tuck you in or read to you or something?

I'm not a baby
, I say. Back in my bedroom, I write
television
and
Jiffy Pop
in my notebook.

M
y clock says three
A.M.
when I wake up to the sound of something crashing, laughter, and then David coming out of Mother's bedroom.

Hi there
, Mother calls to him.

I get out of bed and peek out my door. Mother and the brown-eyed woman from a few months back are in the living room.

Darling
,
this is Margaret. My friend
, Mother says to David.

He says,
I thought I asked you to come straight home
.

You DID
,
darling
, says Mother.
That is precisely what you said
. And she and Margaret laugh at that or something else, I'm not sure.

It's late
, says David.

Is it? Shhh
, she says to Margaret, who is bending over, trying to pick up something from the floor.

Won't you join us?

No
,
I won't
. He seems angry and walks away.

Not on these terms
,
right, darling? On your terms
,
yes
,
let's have a ball
, she says with her arms up.
But not these
,
not mine
.

David slams the bedroom door.

Go back to bed now
,
kitten
, she says when she spots me by my door.

When I'm back in my room, I sit on the floor and open my notebook. Margaret is her name, I remember. I manage to stay awake until the apartment is quiet. Eventually, I go out and wake her up.

You should go
, I say to Margaret.

Her eyes open and settle on me.
I should
.

She fastens her pants and puts on her shirt. I notice that she doesn't wear a bra. Then she puts her hand on my head.
I'm sorry we kept you up. I really am
.

Do you love her?
I ask.

While she is thinking about this, she finally starts buttoning her shirt.
Sometimes you take what you can get
.

I understand. It would be better to be with Mother just a little bit than not at all. Margaret puts me back in bed, tucking the blanket very tight around my body and under my feet.
You're very strong
, I tell her.

She crosses her arms and looks down at me.
You're pretty tough yourself
.

Naomi

CHAPTER 25

KANSAS CITY, 1955

I
'D SLEPT ON
the couch of the little apartment above the Neon Parrot for several days. I read a worn, old copy of
Cosmopolitan
magazine while Caroline and Elaine got ready to go downstairs. Marilyn Monroe was on the cover. It was hard to tell whether she was pulling the black lace dress off her shoulder or trying to keep it from falling.
Oh
,
this silly dress
, her face seemed to say. “Why Men Pick the Wrong Women” was the sentence next to her head and where her hips would be it read, “Hollywood's Most Valuable Property.”

I longed to be beautiful, to be someone's valuable property.

The noise below us swelled until the voices and the music rattled the apartment. Caroline and Elaine moved from bathroom to bedroom to kitchen, quickening, giggling, saying
he
this and
she
that and
did you ever
. Caroline was wearing a black half-slip and pink bra, the hair around her face wound and pinned into perfect circles. She had two cigarettes going in different ashtrays. Elaine came in and out of the bedroom in various dresses, finally settling on a tight black shift. She pulled a scarf off the lamp, shook it once, and wrapped it around her hips, tying it to the side.

What do you think?
she asked, posing.

I think you could wear anything
, I said.

She cocked an eyebrow at me and said to Caroline,
I kind of like the country girl
.

Let's not jump to conclusions
, said Caroline, perching next to me on the davenport with a haze of perfume and hairspray. She began to deftly roll a stocking in her hands and pull it on, starting at her toes, straightening it along her leg, and fastening it to her garters. Her legs were fine, not strong like a country girl's but long and bony like a colt's. She quickly did the same with the other stocking and hopped up.

Am I straight?
she asked, facing her back to me. I reached down and pressed my thumb along the seam of her stocking at her calf, to straighten it.

Thanks
,
doll
, she said.

They grabbed their cigarette cases and were out the door, their heels rapid-firing down the stairwell.

The dollar bills waved in their wake like sad little flags. Smoke slowed and hovered under the ceiling. A breeze pushed out the tablecloth curtain like a blue belly and then pulled it empty again. It was suddenly so still.

I went to the phone and dialed home. Mother answered. I didn't speak at first.
Hello?
she said.
Hello? Naomi? Is that you?

Yes
.

O mój Boże, o Boże (“Oh my God, oh God”).
Where are you?

I tried to breathe because her voice made me cry instantly.

Are you there? Please don't hang up
, she said.

I'm in Atchison. At the convent. I'm safe
, I told her.
But you can't call. They're strict. I have to go. Tell everyone I . . . I have to go
.

I hung up, sat down, and cried for a long time, until I couldn't anymore, until I could see that all the sadness in me didn't change anything. There was the breeze coming in, there was the lamp, there was the same stillness the girls left behind when they ran downstairs.

A nearly whole cigarette teetered in the dip of the ashtray's edge. I picked it up and relit it, coughed and breathed enough to clear my lungs, then tried again. It was awful and hurt in a way that moved me, burned something in me that wanted to be burned.

The door opened and I smashed the cigarette in the ashtray, coughing again. David saw me and said,
Oh
,
for Christ's sake
. He went to a low cupboard under the bar and pulled out a gun, popped open the cylinder, and clicked it back in place before tucking it in the back of his pants.
Help yourself to whatever
, he said, gesturing at the kitchenette.

Where you off to?
I asked.

A game
.

You need that gun for a game?

It's not just any game
,
doll
, he said, heading for the door.

I could come watch
.

Nobody watches
, he said.

I paced around the little apartment, opened the cupboards and the fridge, looked at the booze on the little liquor cart. I opened things and smelled them, poured myself a glass of brown liquor. It was awful, just like the drink Elaine gave me, but I felt like it was cleaning me somehow.

Elaine threw open the door then and the room filled with sounds from the club.

Did he leave?
she asked.

Yes
.

Good, then. Just needed to be sure
.

What kind of game did David go to?

Cards
, Elaine said, checking herself in the little mirror by the door.

Does he play for money?

Elaine faced me.
You think Daddy bought him this club?

I shook my head no.

And don't drink that stuff
, she said, pointing to the glass I was trying to hide.
It ain't gonna help one thing
. Then she left.

T
he girls' room was a terrible mess. I put away the stockings and slips, panties and bras, tried on the shoes, and walked all over the apartment. The heels made me feel very serious, like I was standing on the tip of something, walking along the very edge of myself.

I lay on my back and listened to the crowd downstairs, the bubbling and billowing of sound like water boiling, and then a woman's voice sang out, loud and plaintive, calming down the boil. I sat straight up. The sound of her made me ache and I put my hand between my legs—let it just rest there—and I realized that I wanted her, the woman who was making these sounds, or I wanted to be her. I lay back down with my hand still resting, letting the longing course through me and through me, never moving my hand, never doing a thing to stop it, to let it go.